


this could be love (if that's what we wanted)

by LizMikaelson



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18062888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizMikaelson/pseuds/LizMikaelson
Summary: Lizzie and Hope, after 1x13.





	this could be love (if that's what we wanted)

She’s reading when Hope finds her. Well, technically, she might be hiding.

Hiding from a sister she doesn’t know what to say to anymore. From the worried glances her father keeps shooting them. From the fact that she has no idea how to interact with anyone anymore, now that she’s not constantly worried about everyone knowing her secrets.

But she’s holding a book, so it still kind of counts as reading, she figures. Actually turning the pages is for amateurs, anyway.

Hope startles her when she sits down next to her, holding out a cup of coffee, and she finds herself staring for several seconds.

“It’s not actually poisoned,” Hope says, and her voice is gentle.

It makes Lizzie uncomfortable and she rolls her eyes, takes the cup. “Why are you bringing me coffee?”

Hope shrugs. “I figured we could give this friendship thing one more try, given recent revelations. And it’s kind of my turn to make an effort, don’t you think?”

They were almost friends, once. The last time Lizzie had tried, before everything had gone up in flames.

She sips the coffee and delights in the taste. “This is the good stuff. From town. How’d you know my order?”

“I have my sources,” Hope smirks, pleased. She stares her down. “I asked Landon.”

“So the hipster boyfriend does actually serve a purpose.” And she should probably be grateful that she took the bracelet off again, but Hope doesn’t seem mad.

“So, why are you hiding?”

“I’m reading.”

“You haven’t turned a page in the last five minutes.”

“How long were you watching me? Stalker.” The insult sounds mild even to her own ears. She’s losing her edge.

“So?” Hope prompts.

“Josie, mostly. And everyone else, a little.”

“How are you guys?”

Lizzie shrugs. “Weird. She keeps apologising and I keep not knowing what to say.”

“You’ll be okay,” Hope says.

“I trusted her. More than anyone.” Josie was the one person in the world she thought she could always rely on. “Have you guys talked?”

Hope nods. “She apologised to me, too.”

“And are you fine with everything?”

“I spent the last three years thinking someone hated me enough to set my room on fire. So the fact that Josie did because she liked me, it’s good to know.”

“I get that,” she mutters. “As it turns out, the entire school does not think I’m crazy.” And that’s a bigger relief than she can put into words.

“Having a mental illness does not make you crazy,” Hope says, shot-gun fast.

“You sound like a pamphlet.”

Hope blushes and Lizzie hones in. “You actually read a pamphlet, didn’t you?”

“I read an article,” Hope says, her gaze defiant. “Or two. And I was serious about making an effort.”

 

 

 

 

Hope’s not a bad friend. Actually, she’s pretty decent. And fun.

They don’t talk about magic or monsters.

She just keeps showing up at Lizzie’s dorm and times it perfectly so that Josie’s always gone.

She knows that Hope and Josie are still friends, too, and it’s not like she minds. Besides, she and Josie start doing a little better. They’re almost talking again.

And her friendship with Hope might be the most normal thing she’s had in her life in a while, because Hope likes old movies and art and sneaks her past Dad into town easily.

And it’s easy to talk to someone who's already seen the worst in her, because she has been horrible to Hope for the last three years and still, Hope’s here, trying to be her friend.

 

 

 

 

Miss Mystic Falls comes up faster than she’d like. She goes shopping with Josie, as they’d always planned they would. It’s awkward and horrible and she hides out in the changing rooms half the time.

They fight when they get home, when Josie makes a huge fuss about who she should ask and honestly, Lizzie’s not the best at turning over a new leaf. “Just go with Penelope,” she blurts out.

“I don’t want to lead her on.”

“Cause all the sex you’ve been having made it clear to her that you want to be friends?”

Josie blushes. “That’s- how did you even know that.”

“You really think I’m stupid enough not to notice you sneaking in here and out of here at all hours of the night?”

Josie just shrugs. “Not like it matters,” she says. “You’re going to win anyway.” Her voice is cold, and there is so much animosity in her gaze that Lizzie finds it freezing her.

She runs as soon as she’s dropped her dress off in their room. She runs until she finds herself on the highest floor of the school and pushes the door open. Hope’s at her desk, reading.

“Liz?” She questions.

And suddenly, she doesn’t know what to say anymore, isn’t quite sure how or why she even ended up here. "I just need her to ask," she blurts out. "I would do anything for her. Can't she just say it? Hey Lizzie, I want to be Miss Mystic Falls, could you not compete?"

Hope takes a long look at her and motions to the bed. “Sit down. I’ve got a great bourbon from my father's basement here somewhere."

Hope steals ice cream from the kitchen and they watch old movies and drink overly expensive alcohol. 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, she wakes up to a pounding headache and a dry mouth and feels at peace, for once. Hope is sprawled out, half on top of her and for a moment, Lizzie watches her. She looks different, in the early light of the morning, peaceful and young and nothing like the girl who faces down monsters.

Even in her memories, the seven year old version of Hope already seemed weathered and tired compared to the girl stretching slowly now before she sleepily blinks up at Lizzy and smiles.

“Morning,” she mutters and honestly, if she keeps having stupid palpitations like this she’s going to have to see a cardiologist.

But she feels better and she’s made her choice.

“I’m dropping out of Miss Mystic Falls,” she says. “I’m sick of fighting my sister over boys and competitions.”

Hope doesn’t say anything, just shifts a little so she can pull Lizzie into a hug. “I’m going to New Orleans after the competition,” she says. “I need to get some books from there. Do you want to come? It might be nice to get out of here for a bit.”

She nods and doesn’t move otherwise, just lets herself relax, for a minute. Or two. 

 

 

 

 

 

Two days before Miss Mystic Falls, the rage bubbles up inside of her. Some days are just worse than others. She’s known that it wasn’t going to be a good day from the moment she got up that morning, but she didn’t expect it to turn out quite this badly. Dad and Josie have gone to town to look up something in the archives and she’s talking to Pedro in one of the corridors and suddenly feels like she can’t breathe anymore.

“Pedro,” she forces out, “I need you to go and get Hope Mikaelson. And don’t come back in here.”

She’s breathless and powerless to fight this and as she hears Pedro’s steps disappearing, the first painting crashes to the ground next to her. She doesn’t know how much time passes, exactly, is distinctly aware that she breathes thirty-seven times and doesn’t open her eyes once.

Three things crash, at least one statue, until she hears the loud clanging noise of boots against the ground and hears Hope’s voice. “Reparum. Fixum.”

Fingers wrap around her wrist and she tugs her hand away quickly. Her breathing is short, labored, but she knows she can’t touch Hope. “Don’t,” she forces out. “If I touch you, I’ll have the power to blow up the school.”

There’s a short moment of quiet and suddenly Hope is all around her, her arm wrapping around Lizzie’s back. “Don’t siphon from me,” she says. Her voice is calm and trusting and Lizzie doesn’t want to disappoint her.

So she lets the power at the tip of her fingers disappear and lets Hope lead her through the school.

“Okay,” Hope says, “I’ve cushioned the walls and put up a containment spell up. No one gets in. Feel free to blow up the place.”

She opens her eyes to the bright light, feels some of the rage twisted together tightly uncurl and stares at Hope incredulously. She doesn’t know what to say. “Come on, Liz,” Hope says, and reaches for her hand again. “Emma keeps telling me that bottling anger is unhealthy. And I’ve made this place safe enough that you can siphon from me now.” Hope grins at her, a little feral, a distinct reminder of the wolf in her, “that’s got to be more fun than using the power in the walls, right?”

So she takes. Uses Hope’s power to fire spells at the walls, one after another, rips the stupid punching bag she hates anyway to pieces.

When she’s done, she doesn’t know what to say anymore, just takes long, deep breaths, grateful that she can finally breathe freely again.

“You done?” Hope questions quietly and when Lizzie nods, she raises her free hand, sending the broken pieces back into their place. Lizzie doesn’t know how to ask, finally just rests her head on Hope’s shoulder.

Hope wraps an arm around her, again, and Lizzie closes her eyes.

The silence is comfortable and she relishes in the fact that Hope doesn’t seem to expect anything from her, seems content to let her sit there in silence.

 

 

 

 

Hope brings Penelope to Miss Mystic Falls, which pisses her off to no end. “What is she doing here?” They blurt out simultaneously.

Hope shakes her head. “I don’t trust either one of you not do something stupid. So, congratulations, you get to share a babysitter.”

This is what she remembers about the competition:

Josie looks stunning.

Raf looks at her like she’s everything.

Josie looks at Penelope like she is.

She has no idea how to make it through the evening.

Giving up what she’s wanted for so long hurts.

Hope holds her hand the entire time they watch the candidates descend.

Giving up hurts less than she expected.

 

 

 

 

Landon breaks up with Hope, seemingly out of nowhere, but she doesn’t appear surprised. “I kept a pretty big secret,” she admits, staring out at the grounds of the school. “And I knew he wouldn’t be happy once he found out.”

“Why did you?” Lizzie asks and Hope sighs.

“The school, the safety of the school. His safety. I can’t exactly say I regret it.”

She squeezes Hope’s hand, just once. “You can do better anyway. I mean, he’s basically a bird.”

“That’s not really how that works,” Hope says, in that quiet mix of fondness and exasperation that Lizzie is pretty sure is reserved just for her, but she’s smiling, so Lizzie counts it as a win.

 

 

 

 

New Orleans is unexpectedly beautiful. She likes it here. Likes Hope here, too, who is at ease and comfortable in a way she never quite seems to be, at school.

They’ve been out, Hope showing her the town and it’s late already, but she’s not tired yet, just watches the still bustling lights of the city underneath her. She turns away from the window when she hears quiet steps behind her and she's not exactly surprised when Hope kisses her, but a little bit startled all the same. 

"I'm sorry," Hope says, moving backwards, "I shouldn't have done that. You just looked- really pretty."

She wraps her fingers around Hope's wrist, tugs, before she can disappear, pulls her closer until she can kiss her properly. And she may have considered kissing Hope several times, during the last weeks, but her thoughts have nothing on reality, on the way that Hope's lips are soft against her and every movement of her hands feels like she's setting Lizzie on fire. 

By the time she stumbles backwards against the window sill, she's already dizzy with desire. Hope’s fingers trace the hem of her shirt and she leans back a little, chucks it away to the other end of the room and delights in the way Hope’s eyes distort and her breathing hitches. And then Hope’s kissing her again, her hands mapping out Lizzie’s body.

“Bed, now,” she demands, as Hope’s lips are moving over her neck and she can feel her chuckle.

“I knew you’d be bossy,” Hope mutters.

“Spent a lot of time thinking about this, Mikaelson?”

Hope hoists her up easily, slipping her hands under Lizzie’s thighs and she bites her lip to stop herself from squealing. “I’m not the only one,” Hope says, breath hot against Lizzie’s neck, “I caught you checking me out in chem last week.”

“To be fair, chem’s really boring.”

"True," Hope consents, attaches her mouth back to Lizzie's neck, and carries her out of the room. 

“If you throw me onto that bed like some stupid damsel in distress, I’m getting straight back up again,” she manages to say once they've reached the bed. 

Hope places her down almost gently, kisses her again, and then they’re kissing again, until she can feel the metallic zip of Hope’s dress under her hands, tugs. Hope steps back a little and Lizzie watches as she slides the zipper all the way down and steps out of her dress, the black fabric pooling at her feet. There’s an efficiency to her movements that’s all her, no-nonsense, and Lizzie is light-headed, suddenly, feels too much and all at once.

She tugs on Hope’s hand, scoots up the bed and suddenly Hope’s on top of her and she lets herself fall. Hope’s everywhere, pressing down against her, her mouth brushing kisses down her neck and over her chest. She gasps when Hope’s lips move over her breasts, sits up a little to get rid of her bra. 

She feels on fire, burning up and tugs until Hope’s hovering over her, close enough so that Lizzie can kiss her again.  
And Hope’s hands are on the band of her pants, pushing them down and she moves and shifts until she can throw her pants out of the bed, her panties following. Even in the dim light of the city she can see something in Hope’s eyes. 

And then Hope’s fingers are between her legs and she can hear her breath hitching.

Hope sets an agonisingly slow pace and Lizzie would demand that she go faster, but she never wants this moment to end, Hope fucking her carefully with two fingers while looking down at her so fucking tenderly. 

Hope kisses her when she comes and Lizzie lets herself fall. 

 

 

 

 

 

The blinding sunlight wakes her and it takes her a minute to refocus. Hope’s still asleep, splayed out half over the blankets and half over Lizzie and she pauses. Part of her wants to run, get away from Hope, get far away from what this might mean.

She shifts and Hope looks up at her with blue, sleepy eyes, only half-open. “Even if you run, you’ll still be stuck in New Orleans.”

"Look," she says, tries to pull herself together. "Let's just go back to the way things were. Last night was great, but with Josie and everything," she trails off. 

“No,” Hope says, and it’s absolutely, utterly infuriating how calm she sounds.

“No?”

Hope shifts a little, still naked, and kisses her, long and slow and compared to last night, almost chastely. “I like you, Lizzie. I’m not pretending this didn’t happen. And I’m not letting you pretend it didn’t just because Josie called dibs on me years ago. Which, by the way, is ridiculous thing to do anyway, I’m not a pair of shoes.”

“I can do whatever the hell I’d like,” she bites back.

Hope nods. “You can. But I’m not going to forget and act like I don’t care about you."

She’s absolutely infuriated, mildly turned on and keeps getting this annoying fluttering feeling in her chest at the memory of Hope’s gaze, calm and quiet, saying I care about you. Consequently, she refuses to talk to Hope for their entire flight back. As if to make it worse, Hope absolutely takes her silence in stride and keeps up a monologue that seriously has Lizzie considering placing a silencing spell on her.

Dad picks them up, because of course he wouldn’t forget when his favourite is arriving and Hope’s hand on her elbow when they see him doesn’t calm her down. It doesn’t.

On the drive back, she stares out the window and listens to them discuss the book and isn’t at all irritated at the way Hope keeps smiling at her, bright and beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

She holds out for three days, survives Hope’s suddenly annoyingly short skirts, her casual touches and her knowing smiles before she corners Josie in the kitchen. She’s been pushing this conversation out for weeks and she knows she can’t keep doing that, no matter how much she’d like to.

“Why Hope?” She asks and grins when Josie nearly drops her water glass.

“Lizzie! You scared me. What do you mean?”

“She told me you were crushing on Raf, too, and he told me that you talked me up to him. And looking back, that probably wasn’t the first time. So what made you decide that Hope was the one crush you didn’t want me knowing about?”

“You finally asking me this means you already figured out answer,” Josie says, and they’re locked in a standstill suddenly, staring at each other from different sides of the room.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Because I spent enough time watching her to see her watching you. Because I knew you didn’t know why you wanted to be her friend so badly. Because I wasn’t about to loose my sister and my crush to each other.”

She waits it out, because she knows Josie, and finally her sister breaks the silence again. “Because if I was going to lie to you and become a horrible person, I wanted it to matter.”

Josie’s crying and she can feel tears running over her own face.

“When the hell did everything get this screwed up?” She whispers into the silence.

Josie shrugs. “Sometimes, I think it’s always been this way."

“Are you happier now?” She asks. “You’re Miss Mystic Falls, you’re in the honour council, you have dibs on Hope, you rocked the talent show.”

Josie zones in on her with the kind of knowing gaze she’s always hated about her sister. “I was wrong about Hope, Liz. Taking things from you just so you don’t have them is not the solution and it doesn’t make me feel better.”

She doesn’t know what to say, which seems to be an annoyingly frequent occurrence these days. Josie sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you and I’m sorry for thinking that we couldn’t both be happy and I’m sorry for driving a wedge between you guys.”

And she’s so tired, of fighting, herself, Josie, the world, and so she moves across the room, pulls her sister into a hug, whispers, “it’s okay” and prays that it will be. Josie pulls away a little, meets her gaze. “And Liz? Don’t repeat my mistakes. I gave up so many things because I thought you needed me to and it just made everything worse.”

There’s a crash next to the wall and they both whirl around, hands raised. Josie’s still on alert next to her, but Lizzie lowers her hand when she recognises the small figure. “Pedro? What are you doing here?”

“I was getting a snack,” he says, “and then I didn’t want to bother you guys. It seemed important.”

She rolls her eyes at him, motions him inside. “One day, you’ll get in trouble for always sneaking out in the middle of the night. Sit down, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

She’s half-done when she notices that both of them are watching her. “What?”

“Can I get one, too?” Josie pouts and she’s thrown back to years ago, the two of them down here after dark. She misses her sister, misses a time when things were easier, if never easy.

“Sure.” She glances at Pedro. “And what’s up with you?”

“Do I still get my sandwich if you don’t like what I say?”

“I’m in a generous mood tonight. Go for it.” Besides, cutting up cucumbers is calming.

“She really cares about you.”

“Who?” she questions.

“Hope. Duh.” She almost drops her knife.

“Why would you- how would you even- “, she sputters.

Next to him, Josie starts laughing. Lizzie glares at her. “You’re enjoying this.”

Josie nods, steals a slice of cucumber out from under her. “Suprisingly much, actually. More than I thought I would. Go on, Pedro.”

“You told me to get her, right? When you had that episode, a couple of weeks ago. She came to find me the next day. And then she said that she owed me a great debt and that if I ever needed her, I should come find her. And to always get her if you need her.”

“You had an episode?” Josie asks.

“A couple of weeks ago, when you and Dad were in the archives. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“And you called Hope? Not Emma?”

“Emma’s always so stressed when that happens. And I trust Hope,” she shrugs, generously smears mayonnaise on the sandwiches.

Josie tilts her head. “I'm moving on from being mildly supportive to actually shipping you guys.”

“You should go for it,” Pedro says. “You always told me that it’s important to fight for the things that matter.”

“Of all the shit I say, this is what you remember?”

“It’s good advice,” Josie interrupts.

“What if I screw it up?” She questions. “I don’t want to loose her.”

“You won’t,” Josie says and she sounds so sure, Lizzie almost believes her.

“Besides, she’s really pretty and she can beat up monsters,” Pedro inserts.

Josie nods. “This is both true.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “But if this goes to hell, I’m blaming the two of you.”

“You’ll be fine,” Josie says and smirks. “And we can start taking bets on whether Dad will try to shovel talk you or her;.”

“Are you interesting in betting?” Pedro enquires, “because I have 1 to 10 odds on you finally figuring your life out and asking Penelope Park out again. If you’re interested.”

Josie blushes and Lizzie grins, reaches over to high-five Pedro. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

He grins at her. “Does that mean I can be your best man?”

She flusters- and that is- so not the point, but she also can’t say no to his hopeful gaze. “Sure, Pedro.”

She hands them both their sandwiches. “Bon Appetit, losers. I have things to do.” Behind them, she can hear Josie arguing that she’s going to be the maid of honour.

 

 

 

 

 

She walks straight into Hope’s room, just siphons the locking spell away from the door. And Hope looks up from her book and just smiles at her, blinding and honest, and yeah, Lizzie’s not stupid enough to give this up.

Instead, she walks over, straddles Hope, takes delight in the way she drops her book and looks just the slightest bit startled.

“Not that I plan on you needing it, but you should know that you have an excellent wing man in Pedro. Oh, and I promised him he could be my best man,” and she shouldn’t have said that, because in a minute Hope is going to push her away and panic and leave.

Instead, Hope’s hands settle on her waist as she tilts her head thoughtfully. “That frees Josie up to be my maid of honour, right?”

She laughs in relief. “Sure, Hope.”

Hope nods. “Works for me. So, is this the part where we kiss?”

“Yes,” she mutters against Hope’s lips, “this is the part where we kiss.”

 


End file.
